


a lot more milk than usual

by kiwikakumei



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Drabble, Jigen Muses To Himself: The Music Video, M/M, i made him yearn! are you happy now mom?!, mention of sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwikakumei/pseuds/kiwikakumei
Summary: "It’s actually extremely strange for me to have memorized so many of his quirks already."Daisuke Jigen, and his thoughts about his assumed business partner, comrade, love of his supposedly short life, Lupin the Third.
Relationships: Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	a lot more milk than usual

Today, he puts in a lot more milk than usual in his coffee, his favourite blend, and that’s when I know that today will be a good day.

Lupin isn’t the type to worry over his plans, and if there were some loose ends, then, whatever, somehow he pulls a fast one even when things don’t go as expected, and pulls through in the end. Sometimes I wonder how he keeps surprising himself when he does. _Keeps me entertained_ , he’d probably say.

He’s a well dressed man, I hate to admit. Him and his stupid coat, jacket, _whatever_ , in an array of colours to make him stand out, and the brilliant gadgets within his even more impeccable disguises. He’s handsome. Of course he’d use that to his growing agenda in being the greatest thief in the world, or some shit like that.

But he isn’t the type to be emotionally vulnerable (the fuck is even that even?). He always seems to show his heart on his sleeve and then reveals it to be an elaborate, strikingly pink ring box made with a thousand locks with tens of thousands of passwords. And only he knows each one.

The moments when I do see the timely slip behind the facade, then, maybe, it’s a victory for me. Like learning at least a hundred of those passwords and even if I’m not able to crack that box wide open, I've still accomplished maybe an obvious dent.

It’s actually _extremely strange_ for me to have memorized so many of his quirks already.

He has a particular twitch to his hands (probably due to all the lock-cracking he’s been doing throughout the years) when he fumbles with his cigarettes whenever he wants to drop the conversational subject. He laughs a tone higher than his usual timbre to signal his exit out of a room, especially at dinner parties. He gets _stupidly_ excited when he’s served caviar and instant curry ramen. 

And when he’s trying to win the heart of a target or convincing the latest stowaway in his adventures, he has a wistful kind of look, the kind that makes you look stupid but its a sure-fire way to make you fall for him.

On some nights, when he’s holding me or when I’m holding him, I see that same face. 

Somewhere in the excesses of whatever I can call a heart, I pretend to believe that his smile--the one with the walls fallen down, the one that doesn’t really want to try anymore for a moment-- is a private, intimate action solely for us, defenseless in action but highly effective.

He’s got many of those specific ‘smiles’ in the form of his actions as well.

When he shares a light when either he or I am without a match. When he grips a hand over my shoulder to stop me from doing foolish, shitty things (the one arm that he thinks is the lesser of my gun-aiming one). When he gives peppering kisses over my face and I can practically hear the smile within his wooing voice. When a particularly strong, bitter bourbon has laced his breath but he urges me to warm the other side of his bed and knows that I will be there in the morning. He’ll wait for me since I sleep in.

Knowing these little secrets that he’s made bare to me, I’ve found myself secretly treasuring. He’s probably aware that I’m hoarding such.

How he makes me feel when the smoke from his signature Gitanes hit against my face as we drive through that one road near that one ocean.

How he makes me feel when he’s full out cackling, wearing my damn hat, and he’s got one arm over my shoulder and I can’t help but be swept away by his laughter, leaning into his embrace, however temporary I may interpret it as.

How he makes me feel, skin against skin, fingers brushing against scar tissue and even more physical secrets only we can keep, soft laughter against my mouth and chest, electric, feeling just as bare as him when the nights are freezing more than the hotel bed we share together, before we sneak off the morning after and never pay.

How he makes me feel when I’m by my lonesome during missions, with his voice my only incentive to finish my part of the deal, and when we reunite, he holds me just a little bit tighter than I can remember.

How he makes me feel when he makes another life-or-death heist attempt and then reassures me, the _fucking_ bastard, that it’s going to end up successfully, even if Pops is at his tail, even if Fujiko steals the treasure, even if--

He makes me yearn for tomorrow, alongside him. 

Stupid. It’s _stupid_ to think that.

I’ve done too much to believe that tomorrow is always at my doorstep but fuck, does he make that thought stay solid. Each passing day, me pretending that forever with this stupid man has begun to turn more into a belief I’m still too afraid to take in my hands.

He’s giving me the particular strength to grasp it one day, though.

Whatever plans he makes for his agenda, somehow, he’s carved my image into it, including me in his otherwise extravagant lifestyle. Somehow, he’s made me see through the locks in his twisted, hidden heart, and only I’ve got that secret for myself.

Why, is beyond me.

Maybe he’s made me more emotionally vulnerable than he has become. Probably made the memories I’ve made with him just as sought after.

He does like treasures after all.

His voice brings me back to the dingy French cafe we decided to stop at, and asks if I also want milk in my coffee, something I never do. I’d rather try to wake up with the black coffee I already have.

But, today, he puts in a lot more milk than usual in my coffee, our favourite blend, and that’s when I know that today will be a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> chelmico's milk inspired this! please love them as much as I do beyond easy breezy--
> 
> very short but I really wanted this distinct jigen thought process down in words and it, uh, still looks like a mess! sorry about that. anyways, hope you enjoy ;w;/


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